It was barely light when Kallie led John up to the front door of the pre-war terraced town house, then slipping away to stand with Sherlock in the shadows.
John knocked a couple of times before a light showed through the glass over the door, and he heard footsteps moving softly down the passage.
The door opened and a chain rattled.
"Who the hell are you?" The voice was well spoken, although not naturally so.
"Mr Reader?"
"Who wants to know?"
"Mr Reader, you may have been expecting Miss Anthea Smith to contact you with regard to the disappearance of her employer's brother." John kept his voice low and calm. "May I come in and discuss this with you?"
"Miss Smith is dead."
"I know, but I'd still rather not discuss this on the doorstep."
With a nod Matthew Reader slid the chain off, opening the door and waiting as John stepped in.
The door closed with a sharp snap, and John felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his temple.
"You really blind?" Reader kicked at John's stick with his toe.
"I am."
"Yet you're sure you've got the right man. Why?"
"The answer's on your doorstep."
After a pause, Reader pushed John against the wall and cracked the door open. What he saw made his eyes bulge.